Bon Marché: Second Wake

Posted by ractrose on 16 Nov 2018 in Art, Poems

    The Folly Wake     Bon Marché   What makes a thing grow to a torment Not a thing, Wake tells himself. He has fallen prey The succubus has dealt him night for day. The Queen’s road constable falls in beside him. ‘Fine evening, sir.’ ‘How,’ says Wake, rigid, and refusing to eye […]